Too Late
by BehindBeautifulEyes
Summary: Ana flees from her chaotic home unaware of the destiny that awaits her. When she finds Dallas, she is intrigued. But curiousity killed the cat. Crappy summary, but you get the gist. Give the first chapter a glimpse, my summaries are horrible, haha.
1. Chapter 1

This is going to be short, emotional, but it _will_ have a happy ending…somewhat. Constructive criticism is loved. I do not own The Outsiders.

* * *

I stared above to the omniscient sky, pleading for release from the excessive amount of weight it had cast upon me, hoping that at any moment it would shatter and the dark blue shards would crash down onto me and kill me.

But that did not happen.

I was jarred. The sky didn't fall on me, but the waves of emotions crashed mercilessly down and thus I plummeted into full blown hysteria.

"No, no, no!" I shrieked.

But I was far too late.

Life for me had always been easy and simple, it was a common life. I lived in a peaceful town, in a middle class neighborhood, and I was a perfectly normal little girl who aspired to be a nurse. I outshined my peers in school, getting straight A's, and I never once caused trouble for anyone. I wasn't loud, I was just as shy as a girl should be, but I expressed things through words very well. I had a tight knit group of buddies that I played with, and two parents who loved and cared for me. Had I known my fate, I might've appreciated all of this a bit more.

Well, I _had _all of that, that was until I started high school. My parents began to argue frequently, and consequently, I was unable to concentrate on my studies. My grades dropped from A's, to C's. I struggled under the watchful eyes of my teachers, who sensed something was going on behind the closed doors of my home, but they never questioned me about it. I suffered through ordeals that were foreign to me. Some nights my father stormed off and didn't return till a week later, and I was forced to be a comfort to my mom as she wailed and shriveled up into a ball on her bed.

I had to learn to take care of myself, which was something that despite my inexperience, I quickly adapted to because of my wit. Emotionally, I felt despair at being neglected by my parents, but after long restless nights of listening to them bicker back and forth, I grew used to that too.

The day I ran away was not like any other. In the past three years, not one day was like the other. Sometimes my dad was home, sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes they argued, others they ignored each other. Sometimes I managed to leave the house and stay with a friend, but most times I was confined to my room, which was cluttered with many medical books, and I studied till the screaming was background noise.

It was my first week of summer. The year after next would be my last year in high school, and then, I could go to college. I would find a job on the side, and work hard till I earned my nursing degree. I'd settle down somewhere far away, find a husband, and start a family.

That was my plan, however, things change. I did not know that this morning the argument my parents had would be of significance to me. I caught my name as I poured my cereal into a bright yellow ceramic bowl. My parents were fussing in the living room, so I ate my breakfast in the dining room, tilting my head slightly to better hear their conversation. It was unusual for them to even attempt to be quiet. My figuring was that they were finally trying to work it out, or maybe they were agreeing to divorce. To my misfortune, it wasn't either of these things.

"What the hell is Ana going to do? She's worked all her life to get into college, and you just throw away her savings like it's nothing!"

My mom's screaming was more hushed that usual, but I still caught what she said. I coughed and sputtered, nearly choking on my cereal with shock at what I'd heard.

"I'll get it back, I just need a few hundred dollars."  
When the fighting first began, I interested myself in what it was about, because I wanted the confusion to be cleared, because I thought there was a way I could help. It seemed every argument made less and less sense as they went on, so I began to ignore them. It wasn't uncommon for them to argue about something as ridiculous as a rubber duck.

Then I understood why my mother was so despondent, and why our pantry was hardly stocked. I had guessed that my parents had just become too lazy to go to the grocery, but it seemed now that the case was that we didn't have enough money to get more food if we wanted to. My dad was gambling, and it was most likely so he could afford more drugs.

I slammed my bowl down on the table, and it met the wood with a harsh cling. Milk splattered everywhere. My parents heard this, and became silent.

"My college savings?" I growled, placing my hands on my hips. I stared at them both with menacing hate and disgust. They looked mildly ashamed of themselves, and bowed their heads under my gaze. My father shoved his shaking hands in his pockets.

"What am I going to do?" I shrieked at them, throwing my hands above my head, twisting my fingers into my hair. I received no answer. My clenched fists quivered with anger, and my head shook slowly as I closed my eyes, willing myself to be composed. I couldn't let myself become bitter like they had.

My mother peered up at last, hesitantly, removing a stray blond hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. Her blue eyes, which had a permanent shadow beneath them, begged me for forgiveness. My dad's face bore no emotion. He was not my dad anymore; he hadn't been for years. My mother still clung to him, my mother was letting him drag her down, and I had to watch.

I left the room. The moment I shut my bedroom door behind me the fighting resumed. I cried silently whilst I pulled my suitcase out from under my bed and packed the essentials. This was something I had prepared years ago, when the fighting first began. There was money, an old pack of crackers, and a water bottle already waiting for me. Once my clothes were neatly folded, I filled the water bottle up in the bathroom and tucked it in my bag when I returned to the room. I counted my money. Two hundred dollars. I had won it in an essay competition and had saved it for an emergency, though I had never expected it to fulfill the purpose that it would.

With my suitcase in hand, I climbed out the window, trying to remember if I'd forgotten anything. When I boarded the bus in town, I was overcome with a flood of memories from a distant, blissful past, and I sobbed till I couldn't breathe over the loss of the past and the future.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here's the second chapter. Ana doesn't meet our favorite greaser till the next chapter. And probably not the way you'd expect either, but predictions are welcome.

* * *

It was several years later, or at least, it seemed like it. The remnants of my old life –my clothing, my mother's necklace which I always wore- were constant reminders as I traveled, but I could not throw them away. It went deeper than just a physical need.

For awhile I managed. I stayed at hotels as I passed through towns. My money kept me nurtured. I found that I enjoyed traveling, and decided that I would continue to do so till my money ran out. I found that I never got lost, because I had no destination.

I didn't want to stop that night, but I had to. It was late and I would be lucky if I could find a place to stay. I wasn't about to sleep another night on a bus. My back cramped from the night before.

So I got off at a street corner sometime around midnight and was wandering the streets aimlessly, my suitcase and eyelids both growing heavier with each step. I was trudging around another corner when they jumped out at me.

I never saw them. I only heard their voices and shrieks and laughter as I kicked and flailed to no avail. I fought to get them off of me, but I could not. I didn't know where to reach. They cut me, bruised me, took my belongings and scurried off in different directions. I only knew they had left when the footsteps that thudded on the ground faded into the black night, and the pain of foot contacting ribs with strong force had subsided to a dull ache. I moaned one last time before unconsciousness overtook me. I was so sure this was the end.

But it was not. I woke on a bed, dizzy and delirious, appalled to find that bruises marked my arms. My fear eased when I saw that my cuts were covered with bandages. I felt then that whoever had taken me in had saved me, not kidnapped me. I heard a whoosh as my breathing finally settled and my heart rate slowed. The torture of last night was over.

The room was a small cramped bedroom in what I presumed was a shabby motel. I glanced out the window that my bed was conveniently lined alongside of, and saw a street lined with other buildings in poor condition. The roof tiles were long weathered off, windows were cracked and broken, and graffiti lined the side walls.

My observations were stopped short by a voice.

"You shouldn't walk alone at night girl; didn't your mother teach you that?"

I jumped, startled at her unexpected intrusion; I had grown accustomed to knocks before entering. I lifted myself from the bed and stood just in front of it, not daring to go near the dark skinned, exotic looking woman who had just spoken to me. She was scantily clad, wearing a bright red dress that didn't go near to touching her knees and showing too much cleavage to even be considered appropriate. Her make up and heels clearly marked her for what she was. I knew her occupation before she even told it to me.

She sat down on the bed next to me, inquiring where I lived, and listening to me as I babbled and cried and went on about how I had gotten here and how, now that my money and clothing was stolen, I could do nothing.

She, whose had adopted the name Monica upon arriving in America, was very patient with me and explained that if I could work with her, she would allow me to live with her. Seeing as I could do nothing else, I had to comply. Monica then explained to me that she worked with a group of girls, and that they watched out for each other so that no one got hurt or abused. It was not an easy life, but most of them came from broken homes, and they had nothing but each other.

I would come to find that these women weren't as they were characterized by others. They were loyal, caring, and though brash, very nice people. The criticism they got was undeserved, because these were women who could not get a job elsewhere and needed the money. They refused to be beggars on the streets, and in my eyes, they deserved some measure of respect for that.

It took a month before I actually went out on the job. First, I had to heal from my minor cuts and bruises, and then I had to be the model student and listen to the advice all the girls had to offer. It seemed Monica was the leader of the group of four, or now five if you included me. She decided the location, time, and each morning they met up at her apartment to eat breakfast. If someone didn't show up, she was immediately sought out. Monica would contact anyone she had spoken to in the past day and track her down. All the girls knew that meeting at Monica's for breakfast was not a social gathering. It was a _mandatory_ meeting, and its purpose was to see that everyone was okay.

The other three girls were rough, often smoking, drinking, and cussing, but as I made my way into their little group, I discovered that though they could be difficult to get along with, they didn't have bad intentions. Adriana was the perfect example of this. She was fiery red head with a bad temper, and it wasn't unusual if she showed up in the morning with bruises from an encounter at the bar. The next day, if she ran into the girl she had fought with; she'd give them a sheepish smile and offer them a cigarette. Tracey had told me about this one morning at breakfast, saying it was 'the oddest thing she'd ever seen', but that 'some people can't be understood'.

I liked the girls, even if they didn't respect me just yet. The only problem I ever had was confusing the two blonds, Tracey and Stacey. They were twins.

The first night I was dressed in a skirt and silk shirt, attire that any girl would wear, and I was just about to question it when Monica began to explain. She was 'dressing up my eyes' very slightly as she replied.

"You're very young, and cute too. A girl like you has a chance to end up like Amber."

"Amber?"

She chuckled and reached for some light pink lipstick that sat on the dresser. She began applying it to my lips.

"Amber was a real sweet girl. Ended up finding her a nice old man, and she come to find out he had a mansion. Was filthy rich. He liked her so much he kept her."

I smooched my lips together as I was instructed. Monica tossed the lipstick onto the dresser that she'd probably recovered from a junk yard.

"But what do I do?" I asked. My stomach was twisting into knots. My nails scraped the wooden chair I sat in. I was clinging to it for dear life.

"Relax child, just enjoy yourself. If you don't get a suitor, you try again the next night. Now straighten up your posture."

For my benefit, the first night I joined them they met at a higher class bar. This meant more gentlemen, married men, and less chance for fights. They dressed for the occasion, putting on their more expensive and less revealing dresses. This was a tip I'd received from Tracey, who I found was the most talkative out of them all.

"You have to dress for what the men are going to like. If you're going to a party hosted by the governor, you wear something classy-like. If you're going to an old bar, you can pretty much wear whatever the hell you want, because there's never a shortage of clients there."

I stepped shyly into the room. It was my first night, and I will not go into further detail of it, because it was also my first time. Even if he paid well, I'll always regret it. I had always pictured my first to be with someone I loved, and to have that taken away left me broken the next day. Monica allowed me to take a few days off, but then I was up again, because when I was working my mind was on nothing else, not even the work itself.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, third chapter. Thanks to anyone who reviewed. Might post the next one soon.

* * *

A year passed. I received no contact from parents. If anyone asked about them, I said they were dead, because they might as well be.

I changed, but it seemed it was only on the surface. I went from playing the innocent girl to smoking and wearing trashy clothes like the other girls. I curled my blond hair, applied some bright red lipstick, curled my lashes and headed out. Monica was waiting for me in the car, along with the other girls. It wasn't every night that we piled into the small car. Tonight was a fun night, and if we had 'an opportunity' we were supposed to take it anyway, but we most likely wouldn't, as we wouldn't be flirting tonight.

I still didn't drink. I refused to make a fool of myself. Smoking was different. It eased my nerves and made me look like a force to be reckoned with. It's a necessity to look like you can at least put up a fight when you do what I do and go where I go.

I had donned a red halter, some old torn jeans, and a leather jacket for this occasion. These were the garments that were most comfortable, and since it was a fun night, we didn't need to dress up for the men.

I hung around outside of the bar, leaning on the brick wall and smoking a cigarette, watching with a mild curiosity as the smoke floated up into the night air. Only a few weeks ago it had been the anniversary of my arrival. The girls celebrated by decorating a cake for me. I liked them, they liked me, but I still wasn't happy. The weeks passed by even more dreadfully slow as I allowed the past to infiltrate my thoughts. Did my parents ever think of me? Did they miss me?

The foul stench of alcohol wafted towards my nose as I spotted the silhouette of a male stumbling aimlessly across the street, heading my direction. The whirring sound of a car's engine became louder as the vehicle approached, and I realized that the man was far too drunk to make it across in time.

I bounded out into the road, several feet in front of the man, waving my hands in the air madly. The car screeched to a halt. A man poked his head out the window and shook his fist at me.

"There's a man here," I explained breathlessly, "hold on a moment."

I timidly approached the staggering figure, knowing well the precautions to take around a drunk. I saw, in the light of a street lamp, that he was very young, possibly around my age. He looked rough, so I made myself wary. He didn't seem to be carrying a weapon, I noted with relief.

"Can you hurry? Someone's waiting…"

"Dammit! My foot!" he muttered angrily. I glanced down to see it dragging on the concrete.

"Let me help you," I offered in a kind, patient voice.

He didn't seem to want to comply, but he did anyway. I rushed to help him over to the other side, and once we were there, I instructed him to sit down. He collapsed before I could finish my sentence.

"Oh dear," I whispered as I set him up to lean against the wall. There were bruises and cuts on his face. I whimpered a little as I recalled the night I had been found in a similar state. I had to help him.

I parted through several groups of people who were conversing and found Monica chatting with the bar tender. She had an extensive knowledge of wines, apparently. I would've stood there and listened with a dumbfounded expression if I wasn't doing something at the moment.

I tapped her shoulder, my eyes growing big as she turned to glare.

"I found someone, he's hurt, I…"

"Just a drunk darling, he be okay."

"No, I want to help him." I pressed.

"Why?" she beseeched. "Why tonight?"

I cringed as her sharp accent began to come out. Whenever she was angry, it was very apparent. Sometimes she even hollered out a string of Spanish swear words at us. Her patience was endless at times, others her fuse was very short.

She sighed and gathered up the other girls. The twins had already acquired a ride home. Only Adriana was forced to go with us, and she wasn't happy about it.

"Why are we doing this?" she grumbled to Monica, shooting a brief glance of anger at me. We hauled the unconscious boy into the backseat.

"Dree, you know what she went through. You saw her. It's understandable that she wants to help this kid. Let her. She'll learn." I heard Monica explaining in a quiet voice as we road home. I sat in the back, staring worriedly at the young man, pretending I didn't hear her.

After we dropped Adriana off, there was only me and Monica to carry the boy up, and it wasn't an easy task. Somehow we managed. Monica was not a weak woman, I knew this, and it only gave me a reason to admire her more.

We set him on the couch, since we did not have a bed to spare.

"His foot," I began, "he hurt it somehow."

"I don't know too much of tending to injuries."

I pulled his shoe off and examined his ankle. It seemed to be nothing more than a sprain, but it was a serious one. His ankle swelled worst than I had seen in my lifetime, but then again, I hadn't witnessed too many injuries besides the ones in my books.

"Monica, can you get some ice?" I requested. She nodded and left the room. I took a pillow and elevated his foot, carefully studying his features to see that I caused no pain. He did not stir. I sighed with relief.

Monica returned with a bag of ice. I took it from her and placed it on the swollen ankle. Then I stood back to get an overview of what we were dealing with. The rest of his injuries were only minor cuts and bruises. He must've gotten away before anything else could be done, and maybe tripped in the effort, I surmised.

"You done this before?" Monica assumed questioningly.

"I was studying to be a nurse." I admitted. "My dad ended up losing my college savings."

It was the first time I had mentioned anything about my life since she had first found me. Monica smiled weakly and gave me a hug, petting my head as she did so.

"One day you'll make enough money to get into college." She assured affectionately.

"I hope so."

We said goodnight. I washed my face, put on my gown, and went to sleep after briefly checking on my patient. I observed that he had a mass of blond hair, and wore roughed up jeans with a white tee that had too many stains to be white. Monica had removed his jacket and placed it on the back of the sofa. I didn't have to smell it to know the familiar scent of sweat, booze, and smoke mixed all together into a bittersweet aroma.


	4. Chapter 4

Short chapter, so I'm posting the next one right after this. I have most of this story done already, it just need some revising. Review please, thanks

* * *

The next morning was more hectic than usual. The girl ogled and fretted excitedly over the boy on the couch while Monica cooked up a breakfast of eggs. The boy hadn't moved an inch from where I'd left him, and I noted with delight that the swelling had gone down sufficiently.

"You do know who that boy is, don't you?" Stacey asked, pointing her fork towards the room where he lay asleep as she chewed on a strip of bacon.

"No," I replied, running my hand through my tangled mess of blond hair.

"That right there is bad boy Dallas Winston. Has a pretty big record."

"Shut it Stacey, you're ruining it for her." Tracey reprimanded.

"I don't think she's so concerned with who he is girls, she just likes taking care of people." Monica explained, turning to hand me a plate.

"Not surprising," Adriana muttered as I took a seat next to Tracey.

About an hour later they left, and Monica did as well, to get some groceries. She handed me a switchblade, saying,

"If he tries to hurt you don't be afraid to use it."

I had only blinked in response. It was only then that I became aware that I easily could've aided a criminal who was running from the police. This time as I passed him, I sighed with discontent.

In the cracked bathroom mirror I observed a pale girl with plain features, plain brown eyes, and thick blond hair. There was still a scar above my eyebrow from a man who had slugged me with a beer bottle just before I managed to get out and call Monica to come get me. That had been one of the only bad experiences I'd had, surprisingly. It left me a little shaken for a few weeks, but then Adriana showed me how the very tip of her pinky had been sliced off in a vicious fight and I got over it.

Once I was dressed I went back into the living room to read. As the minutes passed he began to stir increasingly more. When he started to toss and turn, I shook his shoulders to wake him in fear that he would hurt himself.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled drowsily. He attempted to sit up, but the moment he put his foot on the floor and applied the pressure needed to stand, he sat back down with a grimace.

"I…I found you."

"Oh right." he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

I allowed him a moment to recover before questioning whether he wanted any food, to which he rudely declined. The girls weren't perfect, far from it actually, but they didn't cuss unless something bugged them. They had _some_ decency.

"I'll have Monica drive you home when she gets back."

"I can walk."

He again attempted to stand. This time he was able. He limped across the room. Without thought, I rushed and stood in front of him.

"Stop, you're hurting yourself. Damnit, what would it hurt to sit here and wait for a ride?" I demanded harshly. "There's no need to be so...ornery."

He stared me down for a short moment before chuckling sourly. He turned and took a seat on the couch again.

"Alright then, I'm Dallas, you are?"

He wore a smirk.

"Ana,"

"I wonder if you're a real blond…"

To my relief, Monica came in just at that moment. I scurried over and busied myself with pulling objects out of the brown paper bags and putting them up where they belonged. Monica peered around the corner to see that Dallas was awake, and turned to me.

"He didn't do anything, did he?"

"He wouldn't have been able." I assured honestly.

"Good, I'll drop him off."

I raised my brows at the sudden anticipation she had acquired to get him out of our house.

"See ya around, Ana," Dallas called as he left. Monica was attempting to assist him, but I heard him cussing at her as soon as they were out in the hallway. I couldn't contain myself. I had to laugh. Poor Monica.


	5. Chapter 5

Nope, the next chapter won't turn out like you expect I bet. Heehee. Welp, hope ya enjoy. Review if you fancy.

* * *

When she returned, there was a distressed air about her. She fluttered around the kitchen, busying herself with tasks so simple they didn't even need to be done, such as attempting to scrape off a stain that had been on the counter for over a year. She was generally up front, as were most of the girls. I surmised she was avoiding me, so I dropped the book I had been occupying myself with and went to the kitchen.

"Where'd you drop him off at?" I asked in an attempt to clear the tense air.

She stopped scrubbing the stain and looked at me with what I deciphered as worry.

"At that gas station down town…That boy had just robbed a store when you found him. The police are out looking for him. If they find out we housed him, we could be in trouble Ana, for aiding a criminal."

"It's not like we knew that."

"The police aren't going to believe us Ana, we're not liabilities, it comes with the job."

"Well…" I thought hard to come up with a simple solution. I'm more book smart than anything else, and the girls liked to point that out whenever I screwed up. "You should've told him to keep his stay here a secret."

Monica smacked her forehead with her palm and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.

"I doubt he would listen to us Ana."

As she was saying this, I was compelled to get up and grab my coat, which hung on a wobbly wooden coat rack just by the door.

"Well he better."

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

I reached for the doorknob, but stopped and turned back to look at the stressed out woman who I had endangered because of my selfish desire to play nurse.

"I'm going to make sure he doesn't get us in trouble." She opened her mouth to protest but I waved it off. "I still have the blade, besides, he's injured." I was about to add that I knew the weak points in the human body, but decided that would be over the top. Everyone in the group knew that I was good at that stuff by then. I'm sure at least one of them thought it was all I was good at.

Whether Monica didn't feel like arguing or had trusted me to convince Dallas to keep us a secret, I don't know. I didn't vex myself with that. I knew it was most likely that she had given up on me, but I couldn't think that.

The gas station was about a mile to walk, but I was able to hitch a ride with a neighborhood friend of Monica's a little over half way there. It would be no problem catching up with him, that is if he had gone anywhere. It was probable that he was taking a rest there or waiting for a ride.

Seeing him standing, leaning against a gas pump, smoking a cigarette caused a major decrease in my stress levels, but somehow my heart still pumped as fast as it had been as I had anxiously searched for his face. I wasn't worried, I wasn't afraid. What was it?

"We need to talk." I said as I approached. He nodded, not taking his cigarette out of his mouth as he dug into his pockets and lit one up for me. I took it gratefully.

"So," he removed the cigarette and puffed out a ring of smoke. "What do you want?"

I couldn't help but to catch the suggestion in that small question. I should be used to it by now, but it seemed his flirting had a different effect on me. It had to be the fact that he was younger and more handsome –that's not saying much- than most of the men who came on to me at bars.

"You stayed at my apartment, and you'd just robbed a store." He grinned like it was some sort of accomplishment. "If you tell the cops we'll…"

"Heh, yeah. You can tell little Monica bitch that I won't do it. For you, anyway." He paused and shrugged slightly. "Want to do something?"

I had a tugging sensation that he might actually do as he had threatened if I declined, and besides, the girls said to never turn down an invitation.

I tossed my cigarette to the ground and grinded it into the concrete with my foot.

"Alright," I agreed.

"We have to wait for my ride first."

I leaned against the gas pump beside him and frowned as I stared into the embers that still glowed from my cigarette. Somehow I was reminded of my mother, so I looked away.

"So where ya from?"

"Does it matter?" I snapped.

"Okay then,"

"It's…"

"I get it." he said coolly.

I peered over at him and read an expression that proved he did 'get it'. I didn't have to tell him everything about me, and he didn't have to tell me everything about him. We both knew that neither of us were perfect in any way.


	6. Chapter 6

A friend of his picked us up and dropped us off at his house, which was cluttered, more so than my own shabby, meager apartment. He told me that it was rare for him to be home, that his dad rented out cheap places in different cities –for his job, which required traveling, though he never specified what the 'job' was- and came by from time to time. They did their best to stay away from each other.

"I'll say," I replied after glancing around the messy room.

He laughed his bitter laugh.

"Well Ana, you're around whores a lot, you know how it goes down, right?"

The comment stung.

"Shut up," I lashed out, reaching for my pockets. He noticed this and yanked my hand away. I only struggled a little, but figured I was my own damn fault for being led into this, and accepted this may be the end. I let him take the blade from my pocket.

"A blade? On a girl? Did you think you were going to use this?"

I realized with relief that he was being more playful than serious. He examined the blade with curiosity.

"Where'd you get this?"

"None of your business." I spat.

He discarded it on the floor and laughed.

"I thought you were a nice girl, but you've got some spunk."

I had seen this coming. A girl with my rep just doesn't get invited over to hang out. For some reason, this time I was afraid.

I bent down to get my blade and shoved it back in my pockets.

"I don't want to do anything." I admitted at last, then crossed my arms and turned my face away from his, which inched closer every second.

"Did you think I brought you here to play card games or something?"

"I think I deserve a bit more respect…"

"You're one to ask for that." He grumbled, stepping away with a sickened look on his face.

"I didn't choose…I bet it was one of your friends that jumped me that night and took all of my money!"

I had paced to the other side of the room, meanwhile Dallas had taken a seat.

"Woah woah woah, slow down. Start at the beginning."

I sighed and took a seat next to him. Who knows why I decided to confide in him, a criminal and a jerk, but I did.

"I was middle class, and I was going to be a nurse, but then my bastard of a dad gambled away all my college funds so I ran off. I got here and not a second later I was jumped and they took everything."

He leaned back, scratching his chin as he mulled this over.

"No, it wasn't anyone in this neighborhood. How long ago was this?"

"A year ago,"

"You got picked up by that Monica lady, huh?"

"I had no where else to go."

He drew in a breath.

"You had too much manners to be like them anyway. Ya want to call up someone to pick you up?"

Had I not treated his wounds and had a weapon ready, would he have been so polite to me? I doubted it.

"No, I need a change."

He pulled a flask from his jeans pocket, took a swig, and offered me one.

"I don't drink."

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"You mind seeing if there's anything to eat in there," he jerked his thumb towards the kitchen. "I'm starving."

"I'm not your maid." I said with a scowl. "But hey, whatever."

I searched the fridge and found many items way past their expiration dates, and once I had parted through them, I found a good jug of milk and in the pantry, some cereal.

"This okay?"

"Yeah,"

I handed him the bowl and fell back onto the couch as he munched away. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. For some reason the events that had occurred today had exhausted me, more mentally than anything. I know now that it was a turning point. It was when I began to realize I didn't want to give myself away to men I didn't even care about.

Once he finished he flung the spoon across the room with a smile on his face. He sure hated his dad. I was slightly dazed, staring at the spoon as thoughts clouded my head. I hardly felt it when he snaked his arm around my waist. I was caught off guard and came to my senses once he had pulled me close to him.

As much as I wanted to, I didn't even attempt to resist, even though I knew he probably wouldn't pay me. I was so close to brushing my lips across his, just that one little gesture would be enough…

Heavy footsteps on the porch startled the both of us.

"Shit, it's my dad. Get out!" he hissed in a loud whisper.

"Won't he turn you in?"

"Not the first time I went to jail, go on, out the back door!" He added when I started towards the front.

I gave him a meaningful look before I left.

"I'll try to visit." I promised before rushing out.

He took my feeble request humorously, snickering. It seemed even if he was smiling, it was always bitter. He was cold, and a blind man could see that he had committed many crimes in his life. It only made me more curious. As soon as I heard he was behind bars, I scrambled to schedule a visit. It would be easy. I had some favors with the men who ran the place he was jailed at, and I was willing to contact their wives.


	7. Chapter 7

I was thinking about combining chapter 6 and 7, but got lazy and decided to just post them both on the same day. So here we are, hope I didn't do too terrible on this chapter, though I feel like I did. Lol. Anyway, enjoy!

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His sentence was for six months, but as it turned out, it only lasted four. During these four months I began to go job hunting when I claimed to merely be on long walks. After two weeks I found a family owned restaurant that was willing to hire me. The pay was actually less than my current job –which varied depending on the clients-, but I couldn't keep selling myself. Dally was the first person I'd ever been attracted to, and it changed my perspective somehow.

Visiting Dally was awful at first. He had asked me not to come back the first couple of times, but I was so intrigued by him and so bored with everything else in a monotonous life that I kept returning.

I told Dally about the job before anyone else.

"A job?" his expression was one of fake surprise.

"I'll make less money but…I don't think you would get it."

"Try me,"

"I started thinking that maybe one day I'll find someone who wants me, and how can I give them that if I've already given myself to so many people…anyway, I digress. It seems someone from the Shepard gang was caught busting out the windows of some soc's car."

Dally was always interested in who did what crimes and why, so I gathered up information from neighbors and newspapers every time before I went so I would give him something worth listening to. In return, I learned a bit about Dallas myself.

Dallas grew up in New York, had been arrested at the age of ten, had had a girlfriend but he broke up with her just recently, he'd done many horrible things -which he bragged about- yet all I did was roll my eyes and tell him I wasn't impressed. One day, instead of ignoring that comment, he questioned it.

"What could I do to impress you, huh?"

His tone was one of someone who was frustrated, and he was obviously hinting that I was someone who was never pleased, otherwise called a brat.

"I'm not that hard to please," I smarted back defensively.

My mouth parted into an 'o' as I saw a sly smile creeping up his face. He raised his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean." I tried to remain serious, but I ended up chuckling anyway.

Monica was most displeased about my decision to get a job, but she didn't discourage me. She'd said that as long as I worked, I could stay with her. Then she told me that since I would be home in the evening hours that I had to clean, which I readily agreed to. A dirty home was better than none, and I had no doubt that she would kick me out if she had to. It's one of those 'tough love' things. She'd kick me out for my own good.

I was the first Dally contacted upon getting out of jail. I heard someone pounding on my door late as I was sweeping the floor. I eyed the kitchen knife that sat glistening in the sink, assuring myself that it was there if I needed to use it. I had a habit of always searching for something to use as a weapon, because I didn't not want to relive bad past experiences.

I inched the door open slowly and poked my head outside. I saw Dally, forgot the door, and smiled brightly.

"Hey! Wait…you didn't break out did you?"

"No, got off early for good behavior." he was trying to keep a smile from forming, but his struggle was obvious. I didn't realize till then just how rude my question was.

"Come in,"

"I was going to anyway."

You never needed to invite him in, if he wanted in, he would go in. I knew him well enough from our conversations. Just a few weeks back I'd heard Tracey complaining at breakfast.

"She's getting some sort of thing for that Dallas." She'd said. She sounded more disgusted than worried, but worried nonetheless.

No one had said anything to that, and catching myself just now watching as Dallas walked around the living room, tinkering with various objects, I had to agree they might be right. I had been passing this off as simply curiosity, which was a part of it, but being curious doesn't drive you to listen to a guy cuss at you as a greeting. There was something I liked about Dallas.

"I don't think what's-her-name will be here anytime soon,"

"What are you suggesting?" I asked with a smile. The room lacked a mirror, but I knew my cheeks were rosy.

"We could pick up where we left off." He offered.

It didn't need anymore words than that.


	8. Chapter 8

This is so short I wouldn't call it a chapter. Lol. C'mon guys, I need some reviews. Do it for Johnny!

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I felt the sun on my eyelids long before it would ever touch me with its warmth. I was already warm.

I rolled over and faced what I had assumed to be a sleeping Dally, only to see that he was wide eyed and awake. He didn't greet me with a warm smile, his eyes bore into me fiercely.

I felt the alarm take over my features before I actually considered what the intense stare meant. I knew he wasn't angry. I came, slowly, like a fog clearing from a deep valley, to the realization that it was likely that no one had ever said the words to him, and that he would never say them to me. So I spoke up.

"I love you Dally,"

He turned over, not responding. As I waited for some sort of confirmation on his part, I thought of how I was getting into something way too deep, way too fast, and with the wrong guy. When you're lying next to someone though, you can't find a reason to care.

"Get dressed," I urged. "the girls will be here any minute."

"What do I care?"

"Well I'm getting dressed, so if you want to walk around naked, be my guest."

He groaned and got up. I jumped from the bed and started going through my dresser. I found a comfortable pair of jeans and paired it with a red top that didn't match. For a moment I closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself for the sure to be argument with Monica. I could be kicked out.

I walked into the kitchen, which smelled of cigarette smoke and sizzling eggs. I gave Monica a sheepish smile in return for her harsh look. She was like the mother I never had.

"I'm only watching out for you when I say this Ana, that boy is only going to hurt you. If he doesn't make your life a living hell while you're with him, he'll leave you and never speak to you again and you'll be so messed up you'll start relying on booze."

I knew these risks, took them willingly with the figuring that it couldn't be any different than my previous job had been. It was different though. It was more than just physical. I felt that. I'd come to realize that it was hard for people like Dally to care for someone when they could so easily hurt you, or worst, slip from your grip forever, but I couldn't give up on him just because of this.

Dally came into the kitchen, a cold hard expression on his face. He'd obviously overheard her.

"Here,"

He slung his class ring at me.

"I'll be at the Nightly Double later on tonight, if you want to meet me up there you can."

I nodded and watched with dismay as he slammed the door behind him.

"You're going to get yourself killed one way or another."

"I don't care."

I didn't eat breakfast that morning. Instead I took a book and went to my room to recall last night's bliss while I focused all my energy on studies that would never help me. So much for my Saturday morning.


	9. Chapter 9

The next chapters will go by pretty quick, and they'll be pretty intense. Like I said, this is a pretty short fic. I should stop using the word 'pretty' now. Haha. Anyway, thanks to anyone who reviewed!

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Before I left to go to the movies, I checked one last time in the mirror to see that my make up still in place –hoping I looked better than I felt-. Not that Dallas would care anyway.

I'd decided to wear a skirt for the sake of the general population. Prior to running away I'd been perfectly fine wearing feminine things.

The ring he'd given me dangled from my neck on an old chain I'd found after an hour of searching through Monica's jewelry box. I think she let me have it out of pity. She was so certain that my relationship with Dallas would kill me, whereas I highly doubted that and in all honesty could still not find a reason to begin to care.

Monica gave me a lift and said she'd be there to pick me up around twelve. Worry lines appeared on her forehead. I guessed she was regretting agreeing to drop me off, especially after I'd complained about a stomach ache earlier. I thanked her quickly –before she could attempt to persuade me to go back home with her- and went off.

It wasn't hard to spot Dallas. He wasn't in a car, and most of the kids here were. He sat beside two younger boys I'd never met.

"Ana," he said gruffly. "This is Johnny and Ponyboy," he gestured to the quiet boys who sat beside him.

"Hello," I said, managing a timid smile. I wasn't exactly prepared for guests.

They stared at me wide eyed for a long moment before hurriedly returning their gazes to the screen.

I sat next to Dally, just as soon as I had, he got up.

"I'm getting a coke, you want one?"

"Sure,"

I shrugged off his sudden courtesy and looked over at the boys expectantly.

"How old are you guys?" I asked.

"Fourteen, Johnny's sixteen." Ponyboy replied. I took a look at the boy who sat on the other side of him, a boy who barely raised his eyes to look at me. What was he so afraid of?

"Dally tell you anything about me?" Not that I expected it.

"Not really, 'cept that we're not supposed to do anything with you."

I laughed.

"What about you?"

It took me a second to get that he was referring to my age. I cringed.

"I haven't celebrated my birthday in a year or so." Birthdays had always been a hectic affair for me, so it was a relief to not celebrate one. I tended to forget my age because of this, and besides, I'd been lying about my age for awhile.

Neither asked why, for which I was appreciative. They seemed like nice boys, so I tackled another topic.

"You guys lived here forever?"

"Never been out of this town." The other boy finally spoke.

"Yeah,"

"I don't really remember how I got here." I threw in a laugh to make it less serious. "It's been a year or so. You guys like it here?"

"It's alright," Ponyboy replied.

"Yeah,"

I didn't bother them any longer. Dally was coming back with two cokes. He handed me one and kept the other to himself.

I took small sips, and tried to keep my mind on the movie, but it was terribly boring, and Dally would not stop whispering in my ear and teasing me by placing his hand under my shirt on the small of my back and navigating it around that area, sometimes going too low. How he knew I was ticklish there, I wasn't sure. I scolded him, but he only laughed.

"Not in front of your friends,"

"It's not nothing they haven't seen before, right?" he turned to them, and obediently they nodded in response.

I couldn't take it anymore. The coke wasn't helping. The ache in my stomach had only grown gradually worst since I arrived, and he wasn't helping.

"I need a smoke," I demanded.

He pulled the cigarette out and lit it for me. I felt no better after smoking it. In fact, it only made disproved things that much more. A dizzy sensation went through my head, and the familiar icky feeling rose in my stomach. I shot up and ran to the nearest trash can, gripping the metal as I vomited.

"Shit," I heard Dally saying.

"Stomach virus has been going around Dal," I heard the quiet one saying.

When I was finished I felt my way to the ground because my vision was too clouded, only to have Dally help me up.

"C'mon, let's get out of here. You guys finish up the movie."

I almost made it out of the place, but since the very little food I'd eaten all day was now in a trash can, I lost nearly all my strength. You'd think someone like me would've been tougher, but I wasn't. I passed out.

My consciousness was in and out for awhile. I heard Dally cussing at Monica, I felt my body being laid onto the couch. I heard a clink as a metal bucket was set below me.

I woke up several times that night and vomited into the bucket. I began to wonder where it was all coming from, since I'd barely eaten, but I was too sick to question it.

Very early in the morning I rose, gargled, and returned to the comfort of my bed. At last it was over.

Upon waking I was sure it was morning for two reasons. 1. Light streamed in from the window, and 2. the smell of food was making my empty stomach rasp and plead and scream for food. An arm was thrown across my waist.

"What are you doing here?" I murmured sleepily, too tired to lift my head and look at Dally.

"Go back to sleep, I'll explain later."

I was too tired to argue. I hadn't slept much the night before, so I complied. A bit later I woke up feeling less drowsy than I had previously, so I redressed despite the fact that Dally was telling me to go back to sleep.

"A lot's happened Ana,"

"You're not in trouble are you?"

"No," he gave me an odd look, as if worrying about him was stupid. If what he wanted to tell me wasn't so important, he probably would've gotten onto me about that.

"What is it then?"

"Go eat first,"

He lingered back in my bedroom, refusing to follow me into the kitchen where the twins still sat, chatting with Monica. She set a plate of steaming, buttery pancakes in front of me and demanded that I eat. I hoped she knew that she didn't have to tell me.

"So, Ana, how's the job treatin' ya?" Tracey asked, twirling her blond hair in her fingers.

"Fine," Even though it took a lot of practice learning to balance so many plates at once, I might've added. It required a few learned skills, but thankfully not a high school diploma, something I did not have.

"She wants to ask about your boyfriend." Stacey intercepted, her green eyes glinting as they caught a random spot of light that revealed the specks of gold within them. I had always thought the two twins had cat eyes.

"It's her business." Monica grumbled.

"But we just wanted her to know she's free to share the details, golly Monica, are you defending him?"

"Not him, just her."

Monica turned from the dishes that currently occupied her and gave me a brief glance of warmness, her closed lips tilting slightly upwards, an expression of affection that had seemed to vanish lately. Monica had it rough before I came, now she was always keeping up with my foolishness.

"I have to give the boy credit, he carried her here and came by around eight to see how she was doing."

I gave Monica a meaningful look of gratefulness just before she returned to doing the dishes.

"Well, we're heading out to go shopping."

The twins departed then. I never thought I'd been so happy to have them leave.

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of plates being set on the counter to dry. When I heard the crinkling of paper, I turned to see Monica was pulling an envelope from her apron. She handed it to me. I knew who it was from before my eyes ever met with the return address. It had been pity that Monica had displayed this morning. Merely pity.


	10. Chapter 10

No guys, she's just sick. She has too much experience to get pregnant. Haha. Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

I had the letter shoved into my jacket as I walked down the street with Dally. He'd been silent for awhile. I played nervously with the ring on my neck.

"What were you going to tell me?" I finally spoke up, staring up at him inquisitively. He was smoking a cigarette.

"You have to swear you won't tell anyone, 'cause if you do…"  
"I won't." I assured, halting as we reached the street corner. He continued forward. I gave a brief glance backwards, deciding Monica shouldn't care that I disobeyed her since she isn't my mother, and followed Dally. He knew I wasn't supposed to go outside of my street. He was always the one to deliberately disobey the rules, even if the rules weren't his to follow.

"Its Johnny man," his face contorted as a thought struck him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off whatever was bothering him. He regained his cold stare. "Him and Pony, they went out and killed a soc."

My instinct was to gape for a long moment, but I caught myself.

"Why?" I asked in a hushed tone.

"They ganged up on 'em, you know what they're like. Probably was them that took your stuff that night."

"But they have plenty of money…"

"They do it for kicks," he replied, throwing his cigarette down and crushing it with disgust. I could tell by the way he exerted far too much pressure on a feeble cigarette and the way he stood all rigid that the situation angered him more than anything else. I was afraid any moment he would break and go across town to burn half of the socs' homes.

"I told 'em where to go, gave 'em some money." He leaned his hand on a street light pole, scratching his head with the other. I didn't know what to say.

"I don't want Johnny to go to jail, you don't know…"

"I get it."

A wave of nostalgia overcame the both of us when he looked over at me. It really hadn't been so long ago that we were chatting at the gas station.

He was going in for a kiss –which wasn't the most common occurrence- when he stopped. He'd noticed something white sticking out of my coat. With his forehead still leaning against mine, he snatched it out of my pocket and began reading it. I knew every word that his eyes were scanning.

"_Dear Annabelle,_

_I know it's been awhile, but I haven't been able to track you down. Your trail kept running cold. I started looking in Tulsa where the trail left off and found out what'd you'd done with yourself. I'm not proud of you Ana, but I can't say I expected much better. I was a horrible mother. I stood aside and let your father torment me and ruin our family. I realize now I should've taken you and run years ago, but Ana, I don't think you'll ever understand just how powerful love is. I couldn't have left him on his own. I loved your father more than anything. Now's he's gone and gotten himself killed. I miss him so much Ana, but he wasn't the man I fell in love with and I'm free now. I want you to come back to me. We'll find a way to get you into college. Ana, please don't give up on your dream. If you do, I'll live the rest of my days knowing that my daughter is living in filth because of me. Give me a chance, give yourself a chance. Please Ana, I'm begging you. I couldn't approach you myself because I know you. You'd feel forced to come back and you'd hate me for it. I'm not going to force you Ana, but the longer you're there doing the things you're doing, the less you are my daughter._

_Your mother,_

_Elise"_

I already knew the answer to the question posed in this letter. It was ironic how she thought I'd never know love – it was the very thing keeping me here now, before I was simply too angry to go back home. I was loved by Monica, but mostly, I was in love with someone. Someone I shouldn't be in love with, someone who would never be suited for the soft, playful girl I had been back home.

He gave me the letter back and fell away from me.

"You going to leave?"

"No," I replied, closing the space between us.

He looked up, startled.

"Why not?" he asked, suddenly angry.

Initially, it hurt me. I tried not to show this, but it was certain that he had caught the pain I was hiding when his face softened slightly.

"I don't want you to leave Ana, but you should be thinking about yourself. You need to look out for yourself." He had always emphasized this, which I didn't understand, but knew that if I were in his shoes I would.

"I don't care Dally, that dream died before I even came here."

"You'd rather live here?" he looked disgusted and unsure at the same time.

I chuckled and touched his face, tracing a scar on his cheek. Fear was clear, though he tried to conceal it, in his cold eyes. He was more afraid of loving someone than anything else, I then realized. He didn't care about breaking laws or getting in trouble…why was something so simple so hard for him to do?

"Why were you passing through here in the first place? When you got jumped I mean." He questioned as we headed back.

"I didn't really know…but I think its cause my grandparents used to live in Windrixville. I don't think it's far from here."

When I turned five my grandparents died. I was unable to attend the funeral because I was ill with the chicken pox, and I never got to visit their graves. My mom had told me that they sat right beside each other, under the only willow tree in the graveyard, and that the spot had been reserved for him since they married at seventeen.

I wondered for a short moment what it would be like to marry Dally. He would never go for it, I knew that, but if he would…if he would just be a little more willing. I shook the thoughts away. It would never happen. My fate at the moment wasn't predetermined. I had no clue what the future held, but I was sure I'd never marry Dally.


	11. Chapter 11

No, it's not the end yet, but the end is near. Just a few more chapters. I think the ending will be a surprise to everyone, but you're free to guess what will happen. Thanks for any reviews

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When Dally offered to take me up to Windrixville, I was handing a customer his coke. His unexpected presence nearly made me spill it. I fumbled and managed to retain my balance before that could happen, thank goodness.

"Glory Ana, since when have you been clumsy?"

I only gave an embarrassed laugh as a reply, simpering as I felt my cheeks getting hot.

"I'm going up to see the guys, you wanna tag along?"

"Really?" my eyes widened at the prospect of getting to visit a town I hadn't seen in so long.

"Sure, just don't talk so much."

I did talk a lot once I got going, however, I didn't find this little comment to be necessary. I knew good and well from our first encounter that the boys were quiet and thus talking would only make them more nervous than they already were. They must be a nervous wreck, having killed someone and all. There were rumors flying all over town. I heard they'd run off to Texas, of course, I knew that wasn't true.

I took off work early, then we drove up there. We had to stop and see the boys before I would be able to visit my grandparents' graves, but I didn't mind.

Dally whistled, someone responded. We proceeded into the creepy church building. They had to stay here? How is this better than jail? I stifled a squeal as a rat scurried past my foot.

The boys rose sleepily, Pony seemed overjoyed to see Dally, even though he did comment on, or better put, insult his hair. They'd both cut their hair, and I thought Johnny looked better without hair covering his eyes, but Pony just wasn't meant to be a blond. The poor kid had to cut his hair _and_ dye it.

"I know it don't look good, but don't rub it in." he grumbled at Dally.

"It's not so bad," I offered in an attempt to make him feel better. He only shook his head in response. No, he didn't believe me.

The change in their hairstyles weren't the only changes. They had lost some weight and had grown pale. I had to agree with Dally when he made that point.

They conversed for a short while. Pony had too many questions, whereas Johnny, who'd committed the crime, said nothing. Dally handed Pony a letter; it was from his brother, Sodapop. Dally had told me about the Curtis brothers on the way here. I wondered why two of them were given such odd names.

I'd glimpsed at the letter. The hand writing wasn't really neat, but I could make out faintly the words 'awful sorry' and 'didn't mean it'. My dad occupied my thoughts for a long time after that. When I was little he would set me up on his shoulders and we'd walk around like that, it was something especially useful when you were in a crowd.

My dad worked at a law firm, I think. He never talked much about his job. He had a horrible temper that wasn't ignited very easily or very often. He let a lot of things slide, but when he was angry he was scary.

We took the boys out to eat, and until the time of arrival, I was reminiscing sweet childhood memories, the memories where my parents loved me and each other.

We pulled up to order. I was willing to pay for myself, but Dally refused to let me.

"But they need it more than I do."

"They're not my girlfriend, are they?" he'd smarted and turned to order me a sundae. He could be difficult with anything, couldn't he?

"I know you two are wondering why I'm here…" I began once the car was put in park, twirling the spoon in my ice cream. They sat in the back, gorging themselves. Dally was just as much of a pig. None of them had eating manners, but I found that it hardly mattered to me. The girls weren't much better.

"They don't need a reason…" Dally had said between bites. It was muffled from food.

I ignored him and continued.

"I'm not just following Dally around everywhere; my grandparents lived here before they died. I don't mean to intrude or…"

"It's fine." Pony said after a gulp. I gave him a smile before turning back around. Dally looked a bit ticked, he gnawed at his sandwich, ripping it with his teeth like a canine. I rolled my eyes and took small bites of my sundae. I ate about two hearty meals a day –breakfast by Monica, and a meal prepared by myself at the restaurant for lunch- so any extra wasn't needed.

Once Dally had finished he marveled at the boys. They were still eating.

"You'll get sick if you eat too much." I warned.

"Take it from nurse girl here," Dally said, gesturing to me. I chuckled.

He then went about explaining the current situation, all of which I knew. There was going to be a huge rumble, and some girl Pony had met at the movies after I left happened to be the girlfriend of the boy Johnny had killed. I didn't understand it, but Dally said she was spying for them, that she was on their side.

When a silence began to linger I sensed something had gone wrong. I looked around to see that if I hadn't done something to upset them and saw that Johnny kept repeatedly opening and closing his mouth like he was physically unable to speak. At last he did.

"We're goin back and turnin' ourselves in."

The words didn't stun me, only Dally's reaction did. He nearly gagged. He started ranting and cussing up a storm. I sat silently, blinking slowly. I had to agree that they did have a good chance of getting off easy, it was self defense and all. I'd never say this to Dally though, because I knew his intentions. He was only trying to protect them.

Johnny went on for another minute or so. Dally tore out of that parking lot, infuriated.

We were on the road, and he was speeding.

"You're going to get us killed." I snapped, reaching over for his hand. He smacked it away roughly. I was sure everyone heard the snap, even over the roaring engine.

I winced and held my hand to my chest, then tried to pretend it didn't bother me.

"Shit Ana, lemme see your hand." He'd slowed down. I held it out, grimacing at my index finger. It looked crooked. He drew in a quick breath and ran a hand through his hair after examining it. The boys in the back stayed quiet.

"Johnny," he began in a pleading voice. I stared forward, wanting to yell at him because it was not my nature to play the battered wife who was forever patient, even though it was a part I had to play sometimes. If he was going to turn into my dad – the constant yelling, arguing pointlessly, and abuse, I'd leave him. I learned from my mother that staying doesn't help.

"Blast it Johnny, I'm not mad at you. I just don't want you to end up like me. You get hardened in jail…"

Dally had adapted to jail, because he was tough, but I noticed that he paid a price for the life he lived. He didn't want Johnny to be like him, and even though I loved him, I didn't want that for puppy dog eyes Johnny either. He was too sweet.

"We'll stop by the graveyard on the way back." Dally muttered to me. "I didn't mean to hurt you Ana, I didn't think you were so…breakable."

I didn't smile this time. I sighed, leaned my head back, and tried to cope with the pain. It stung worst than anything.

Dally took my left hand, the uninjured one, and held it, stroking it with his thumb. I didn't open my eyes. When Dally was like this, in those rare moments, I was in sweet bliss.

"Glory, it's on fire!" I heard Dally whisper, promptly letting go of my hand. My eyes flashed open to observe the church engulfed in flames, excited people standing around it. My nostrils flared as the smell of smoke fill them. The dark fumes floated and danced their way up into the sky. I heard Dally yelling for the boys to get back in the car, but they didn't listen. I continued to survey the scene before me, feeling something was out of place.

"Don't you dare leave this car." Dally snarled. He slammed his door shut and rushed over to the building.

The boys had gone inside. It was only then that I heard the wailing of 'children' tearing through the air. Children, fire, church, the boys…

I jumped out, disobeying Dally's orders. I completely forgot my hurt finger.

Kids, who were stained black by smoke, were being lifted and handed out the window to Dally. Dally said nothing to me. He kept yelling for them to forget the kids and get out, but they didn't, no, they couldn't until the last kid was running and crying for his mommy. I thought I'd make myself useful and examine them for cuts or bruises, but what happened next didn't permit me to continue this.

Pony came out, coughing, Dally's jacket, which was on his back, in flames. Dally put it out by beating Pony on the back, but he also knocked him out in the process. I bent down and turned him over, leaning my ear close to his face to check for breathing. I felt for his pulse. He was living.

A scream followed. I knew who it was, and I knew that the roof, that old damned roof, had collapsed on him. All I could think was to try to help Pony, because there was no way I could handle Johnny's sort of injury, and I tried to ignore the repetition of 'it was the stupid cigarette' that echoed inside my head. I blamed the cigarette for all of this, because the smokers didn't do anything do deserve this.


	12. Chapter 12

Tell me what you think! :)

* * *

I rode with Dally in the ambulance, half-listening as he swore and cussed. He'd pulled Johnny out of the building and burnt his arm in the process. I was helping the nurse soothe it with some sort of ointment for burns she'd had at hand. I choked back my tears when she remarked that I would be a good nurse. I knew Johnny was bad off, it didn't help that she was unknowingly bringing up my past failures. I could be somewhere else if my dad had stayed himself, but then again, I wouldn't have met Dally. I wondered if it would be worth it.

I sat beside a chubby man who'd tried to go in the church and assist Johnny and Ponyboy in the waiting room. The only thing funny about the whole situation was that he had been too fat to even get in the burning building. The others had been hauled in on stretchers.

"Is the oldest one your boyfriend or something?" he asked conversationally. It was nice to have relief from the questions that penetrated my brain.

"Yeah," I replied, staring down at my shoes. They were some old sneakers I'd borrowed from Monica.

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

I nodded. He didn't have to assure me of that.

Ponyboy came out shortly. He'd been checked over and had nothing more than some minor burns and a bruise from Dally. He didn't look too hot.

The chubby man began questioning him, and I listened as he told the story, this time with interest. I knew what had happened, but I'd never heard it from his point of view. It was intriguing.

When his brothers came in, I watched their reunion. I looked down after a few moments, feeling it was a bit too personal for me to witness. They were crying, and they looked like tough guys. Scratch that, they were tough guys.

I took in a quivering breath, trying to steady myself. I wished Monica would come, just so I'd have an excuse to cry. Those weren't my brothers, they weren't my friends. I was just Dally's girlfriend, a shadow of a person in their lives, and I didn't matter. Why should I cry over these people when I hardly know them?

The chubby man noticed that I struggled. He tried again to get me talking, but instead of prattling on about something as I'd planned, I broke down into tears. I wanted my family back. I didn't belong here. It was a helpless feeling.

I buried my face in my hands, and it was then that he took notice of my finger. I'd forgotten about it.

"Did you do something?" he inquired.

"I just…it was…no, no, I don't need anything." I managed.

"It looks broken."

"It is." I replied.

As this occurred police men and reporters were filing in, questioning the three boys and occasionally the chubby man. None of them approached me. Chubby took my broken finger as an excuse to leave. He led me to a nurse, who took me to a doctor. I pleaded for him not to take too much time, so he put my index finger in a splint and warned that it may be deformed later. I would've cared, but I couldn't be so self focused at the moment.

I returned to the waiting room. It was mainly empty except for other four people I hardly knew. I'd go home if I had a ride.

No one said anything to me. I tapped my foot impatiently. I didn't know what to do! I couldn't just leave, as much as I wanted to. Who here would give me a ride anyway? I wanted to see Dally.

"He hadn't gotten much sleep…" I heard the oldest brother saying. His name was Darry I think. The cute one was Sodapop –the twins went on and on about him-, he had been breathing lightly but responded sleepily.

Sleep. I want to sleep. I'm not tired, but I want to sleep till this is all over.

"Do you need to go outside?" Chubby asked me. He must've seen my anxiety. I knew I appeared crazy.

"I don't know." I cried out helplessly. My fingers clenched at my hair. "I want to go home, but....home? Oh God I want my daddy back." I blubbered. I felt stupid for crying like that, but keeping it cooped up inside wasn't helping any. I wasn't like Dally, and at that moment I wished I was. I wished I could hide my desperate feelings.

It was the first time I'd ever admitted, even to myself, that I wanted the dad I'd loved back. I wanted the life of the twelve year old me back. If my dad was here, he'd be so ready to scoop me up in his arms and comfort me.

"Come on," he said, ready to lead me out.

"No, I have to know if…"

"You need fresh air."

I finally complied, ignoring the three sets of eyes that looked at me as I passed. What did they think of me? Did they think I was overreacting because that boy who was dying wasn't my friend?

I had a smoke, calmed down, and returned back inside with the man, thanking him.

Darry reported the news to the both of us. I closed my eyes to prevent another oncoming flow of tears. Dally's arm would be scarred. That didn't matter. Johnny had a broken back. That wasn't good. I knew from my studying that he probably wasn't going to live.

"We're heading home, do you have a ride, Ana?"

How did he know my name? He must've asked Ponyboy.

"No," I responded meekly.

The car was quiet. Ponyboy had fallen asleep, and Sodapop was in and out. I rode in the front next to Darry. I made him drop me off at the end of my street, since I would need the time to compose myself. I thanked him before getting out and watched as the car disappeared into the distance. I stood, readying myself to explain to Monica.

I was surprised at my own strength as I told her everything calmly, and I was sure she was shocked too, but she didn't show it. She just handed me a glass of some alcoholic beverage –I think it was a wine she'd had imported- and said it always helped. I didn't refuse this time.

* * *

When I wake up early I always tend to be in a reflective mood, but today I didn't want to look back. The past meant pain. I had convinced myself I could only move forward. It was a Saturday, and I longed to wake up to the sunlight making my skin glow and my smile radiant. There would be strong arms around me. I would revel in that moment, because it felt everything was in its place.

Monica came with me to the hospital. Once I had gotten to the door of Dally's room, I told her to leave. I'd get a ride home if I needed one. The two just did not dig each other.

Dally looked bored. He didn't say anything to me when I sat down in a metal chair by the bed.

"I heard about the fit you threw."

I bit my lip. He was smiling weakly, cockily.

"You wouldn't let them give you an x-ray."

He reached over and picked up my right hand, twisting it around and peering at the finger he'd broken by accident.

"You didn't need to freak out like you did."

"Huh?"

"We're all fine here, we'll be fine." He seemed to be telling himself more than me.

"First time drinking alcohol last night..." I said, changing the subject.

"You like it?"

"Monica was right."

"Hm?"

"If something bad happened, I'd probably drink myself to death."

I croaked a laugh. It was hoarse and sounded out of place, but he gave a crooked smile in response anyway. He then motioned for me to come over. I took a seat on the bed, worrying over his arm, even though it was on the other side.

"Lay down Ana,"

"There's not enough room." I protested. He chuckled bitterly, knowing what I'd thought he meant.

"I just want to sleep a little."

I reddened and then squeezed myself comfortably into the small space next to him. I wasn't very sleepy, but it was so peaceful that sleep was inevitable.


	13. Chapter 13

One more chapter! I hate this chapter, I really do. It ends somewhat happily though, you'll see.

* * *

"Wake up sleepy heads!"

I groaned and pushed myself up. Dally was muttering curses, which I rolled my eyes in response to. I blinked wearily to see it was Ponyboy and some guy I'd never met that had woken us from our slumber.

"This is Two-Bit," Pony said. I nodded.

"I take it your Dally's girlfriend?" He asked, giving me a comical grin and raising one brow.

"Heh, yeah," I replied, falling down into the metal chair.

I was yawning. I perked up a bit and became more attentive when Dally asked about Johnny. Of course, I was braced for the worst.

"Passed out cold before we left him..." Two-Bit was no longer smiling. Dally started up cussing again. I looked away, unable to take in his reaction. This news pained him.

"You still have that fancy switchblade?"

Two-Bit handed it over without a word.

"We have to win that rumble tonight. We'll do it for Johnny."

They left after he had concealed the blade under his pillow.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"I don't care."

I took it as a no and turned to leave.

"Ana, come here."

I went over and bent my knees slightly so I could be closer to his face, which had softened considerably. He only got that way for two people, I know now. There was me, but long before me there had been Johnny, and he loved him like a little brother.

"Go home to your mom, you hear me? You can't look out for me anymore. I should've told Johnny this because…" his face scrunched up in pain for the shortest second, and then he regained his cold outer covering. He was mean Dallas Winston again. "You only look out for yourself, nobody else matters."

"I won't leave unless you come with me."

"Damnit! I can't go with you!"

My eyes watered. I fled from the room because Dally's racket was attracting worried nurses, and I couldn't bear to listen to him break it off with me. I didn't know then that he was only doing what he thought was best for me.

* * *

For another time I turned to alcohol. I found Monica's stash, which wasn't hidden so well –she'd hidden many bottles under her bed-. I would've found it earlier had I had any interest in it.

Monica eyed the two empty bottles of her fancy wine when she returned from a night out. The rumble was probably over by now – it had begun at seven. I wondered if Dally would stop by and take the ring back. I was trying to busy myself with a letter that I'd send to my mother, but my hands shook so horribly I couldn't write. How could I go back home?

Monica didn't ask what had happened. She sat on the sofa next to me and wrapped one long tan arm around my shoulders.

"You can start over again Ana," she soothed in soft whispers, patting my hair. She went off to shower and prepare for bed. I pulled my knees closer to my chest.

How had things taken such a horrible turn? When I had finally learned to enjoy my life, it crumbled and lied in ruins again. How had I managed to stay sane after all this time?

I was nibbling on my shaking fingers as I asked myself these questions. My desperate thoughts were stopped short a noise.

A thud on the door made a flood of despair and hope rush through me. I turned the knob with shaking fingers. Dally stood there, bruised, bloody, broken…crying.

"Dally…" I whispered, my eyes widening. I knew it was Johnny, I'd known by his injuries and the attitudes of the doctors that he wouldn't make it. I was surprised by the fact that he was so torn up, both physically and emotionally, and that he had come to me.

He didn't say anything, he just embraced me and began kissing too roughly. His tears wet my cheeks, and once he let go, I didn't wipe them off.

"Don't come after me Ana, you go home!" he yelled before taking off down the hallway.

I was startled. I wanted to listen to him, but I was driven to follow him by the heart that beat fiercely out of my chest. I heaved a shaky sigh, trying to decide.

I was doing just as my mother had, in a way. He told me not to go after him, to go off and live a better life while I had the chance, but I couldn't let go of him. It was impulse to follow him. It was vital, like the moment you break to the surface from being held under water you gasp for air. It felt that natural. Everything with Dally felt like that.

When I arrived out on the black streets of the night, I saw his silhouette passing under a street lamp a street ahead of me. I quickened my pace.

I followed him for almost ten minutes, keeping a distance behind him. I didn't know and couldn't think of where he was going or what he was doing. I was too preoccupied with watching as he cut corners and occasionally nearly tripped as he continued to sprint forward that I didn't hear the escalating cries of sirens. We were getting closer every step we took…

I only remember shock piercing me as bullets fired into the night. The blinking lights dazed me as I caught my breath. My eyes searched for him, and found him crumpled on the ground. I was too horrified to hear the voices of policemen or the thuds of feet that were nearing the scene.

"No, no. no!" I shrieked. My world collapsed.

I ran over, despite everyone calling me back. I couldn't see much, but I saw the lights bouncing off of him, highlighting his features, passing over a scar on his cheek. His eyes were closed, a bitter grin relaxed on his face. Blood seeped from several chest wounds. I didn't even feel the blood cover my arms, I could only feel his limp hand in mine as a squeezed it.

"You didn't tell me you were leaving like this." I sobbed, trying to lift his head. It lolled back lifelessly. Tears came in rivers and streaked my face. In that moment I could not comprehend a pain worst than this, and denied that I had ever cried, for these were the heaviest tears I had ever shed and compared nothing to the fits I'd had before.

Someone was dragging me off, I recognized the voice, but fought blindly against it. The voice was low, soothing, and was desperately trying to comfort me. I admitted defeat and collapsed into the arms that held me.


	14. Chapter 14

Okay, here's the last chapter. Toldya it would end sorta happy. Anyway, I could probably write a whole other story on all the crap I summed up in this, but I've decided to keep it short like I originally planned. Thanks for any reviews.

* * *

That night still haunts my dreams, and every morning I set a long moment aside to think about all the things that came before it and the things that followed it.

The next morning I woke up in a house that was not my own, on a worn out couch. I would soon learn that the Curtis boys had gotten a call from Dally shortly before he had told me goodbye, and had just arrived when the shots went off. It was Soda who had carried me off, it was Soda who had tried to comfort me.

Since they did not know where I lived, they took me to their house. I felt like such a burden being there. Pony was not in a healthy state, and Soda was depressed from recent heartbreak. The whole household was eerily silent, and I sensed that behind that silence a storm brewed. A storm of sadness and conflict and confusion. But they would weather it out. I would too. It would take some time for Pony to heal, but he'd realize how good he had it some day.

That morning, after declining breakfast, I had a long conversation with Soda as the sun rose and touched the tips of the trees, painting the leaves golden and orange. We sat on the steps just outside the house, both of us watching as the world woke up. It was a horrible experience for me to learn just the night after a traumatic event that the world goes on.

"It's like any other morning, only it's not." I said in my tired hoarse voice. I was grim and bitter, attempting to be like Dally. Everyone knew I couldn't harden like that, but they let me try for the next few months. Even my mom was patient with me once she'd heard my story.

"What do you mean?" He was terribly tired, the poor boy. His eyes were bloodshot, he had beard of stubble from lack of shaving. It made me think of how Dally's slight stubble tickled when we had last kissed. How he had smelled of cigarette smoke…

"People just go on doing like they used to."

He had only nodded in response to that. I could tell he was getting more tired by the minute.

"Go back in and sleep, Monica will be here in a few minutes. I can wait by myself." I finally said. He tried to give me a weak smile, but it faltered.

That was a rough day. I don't think I ate for the rest of the week, but Monica finally got me up and dressed when my mom had said she'd come to visit. That was the only thing that got me up, not even my job would've pulled me out of that bedroom, from that bed where Dally had once laid next to me. I knew I'd been fired, but Monica didn't tell me, for the sake of my sanity I guess.

My mom did as she promised. She saved up enough money for me to be a nurse. For a long time she'd had a secret stash of money, which she made from renting out my grandparents' home in Windrixville. I had to take high school classes on the side, because I had dropped out. I went to a school not far from home, and whenever I had the time, I drove down to Tulsa and visited my heroes. Monica still loved me, even if the rest of the girls had grown a bitter hate for me that stemmed from envy and contempt, and maybe anger for me ignoring them. Soda reminded me what it felt like to be light hearted and silly, like a little girl. Him and Two-Bit were the light of my life in my dark age. Their –mainly Two-Bit's- constant jokes, puns, and antics made me laugh again.

It was a busy time, and being busy was what I needed.

I emerged stronger, and a better person, even if I was mistrusting and overprotective of the ones I love from the fear of losing them. Even if I still didn't understand the world.

After getting my nursing degree, which took me a good three and a half years, I decided to fix up my grandparents' house in Windrixville and settle there. I got a job at the same hospital I had cried in three long years ago. Once the doctor who had tended to my finger pointed out humorously that it was slightly crooked from my being so stubborn. I gave him a smile, knowing he didn't mean any harm, but it did hurt. Dally was the one who had broken my finger. His name was like the dull ache on my ribs after the boys who had jumped me had run off.

I didn't live in that little house alone though. As soon as I'd graduated Soda had asked me to be his wife, and of course I accepted. He was easy to fall in love with. During my frequent visits we had grown close. Monica told me he was better for me, and by that time I had accepted that she was only speaking the truth. She had been right about Dally when she said he'd hurt me. I still wouldn't go back to save myself the pain.

It's been five years. The commute to work isn't desirable, but we both manage. My mom lives with us, and she takes care of Kay, our two year old. His brothers and friends visit often, daily actually, Pony especially likes it here, and Monica comes down from time to time. We have a small golden pony named Peanut that Soda and Kay bond over. My life is nearly perfect.

But every morning he crosses my mind. I wonder why Dally hadn't gotten a happy ending, was it because he resisted it? Why had he killed himself?

The morning of Dally's funeral –I wouldn't call it one, it only consisted of a burial- I voiced these questions. None of the other greasers answered, only Soda did.

"Ana, Dally realized that you were going to die just like Johnny did one day. It wouldn't have mattered what you did, you couldn't have changed him completely. You couldn't have just…reversed all the damage. It was too late for Dal when you met him."


End file.
